


Five times Foggy doesn’t find out about Daredevil and one time he does

by Nautika



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Avocados at Law, Fluff, Gen, Identity Reveal, Kidnapping, Matt Is A Dork, Nightmares, Secret Identity, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nautika/pseuds/Nautika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Couch Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom! THIS FANDOM. It sucked me in and now it refuses to let me go again. Never wrote a fanfic in my life but I can't, I JUST CAN'T anymore, I have to do.. something *shakes fist*. 
> 
> So. Well. Here comes the usual "English is not my first language and it is 3am" excuse for all the mistakes.  
> If you find some, please let me know :)
> 
>  
> 
> Something else.. hm.. a, yes. Gifted to the guys of the SuperWhoWednesday in Studentenwohnheim :D

1.

 

„Matt, I swear, if you don’t open the door RIGHT THIS INSTANT I will ---“ The door suddenly swung open and Foggy, fist still raised in order to pound against it, nearly hit his best friend.

“…you will…?” Matt yawned, one hand trying to cover his mouth, the other lazily scratching his belly.

“…have to fish out my spare key.” Foggy was not impressed by Matt’s display. “You have any idea what time it is?”

“..uuh…”

“It is two hours past Matt-should-have-been-at-Foggy’s-to-discuss-the-new-case. But, hey, if you prefer to sleep in instead of showing up so that we can maybe help Mr. Smith, who am I to complain? Honestly, why are you still asleep at eleven in the morning?”

“..uuh…”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve got a woman over!” Foggy got on his toes to get a good look into the apartment but couldn’t see some random Beauty sitting on the couch, drinking coffee. He fixed his glare at Matt again. “So. If there’s no woman... what did you DO all night?”

“..uuh…” Matt’s brain tried to come online and supply him with a good reason for having overslept. A reason only a lawyer-by-day-vigilante-by-night could come up with… because of course that was the problem. Foggy didn’t know (and if Matt had any say in it he would _never_ know) about his nightly activities. He wouldn’t be safe and Matt couldn’t risk it. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to be his friend anymore and Matt _really_ couldn’t risk _this_! What would he do without Foggy. Foggy, who supported him since college. Foggy, who talked out loud what he couldn’t see. Foggy, who went with him to start their own business even though he could have had a safe job. Foggy, who… probably stared at him like he lost his mind. Right. “I… slept?”

Great, Murdock. That sounded believable.

Foggy’s expression told him exactly _how_ believable. “Riiiight… well, now I’m here, you’re awake, let’s to this!” and before Matt could utter another word, Foggy shouldered his way inside, still muttering about unreliable friends. Matt had no choice but to sigh dramatically and close the door behind them. Fortunately, he _had_ gotten some sleep the night before. On his couch. Because he hadn't made it to the bed, what with being exhausted and all. He had stripped out of his Devil of Hell’s Kitchen outfit, thrown it down and slept like the dead.

Wait.

Thrown it down.

Next to the couch.

The very same one Foggy was heading for right this moment.

Making a small –but panicked- noise, Matt sprinted to his couch (passing Foggy on the way), jumped over its back and kicked his costume under it, out of Foggy’s line of view.

He didn’t have to listen to his heartbeat to know that Foggy blinked at him with what surely was a bewildered look on his face.

“What the..?”

“You were right. There was a woman. A really good looking woman. She, uh, forgot her, uh, thing. And she would not like for it to be seen by anyone except me. Which is good ‘cause I can’t see. Yes. Coffee?”

“…”

“Tea?”

“…”

“Hot cocoa?”

“Beer, please.”


	2. Socks in the night

 2.

 

Matt recognized Foggy’s voice exactly the Moment the little screams and groans reached his ears. It was muffled and maybe two blocks away but there was no force on earth that could have stopped him now. His Foggy was in danger! Unfortunately he had just stripped out of his costume - there had been no illegal activities this night – and now Foggy needed his help and there was just absolutely no time to change.

Matt backfliped out of the window, not bothered by the fact that he was in just a t-shirt, some shorts and socks.

He ran across the nearest rooftop and jumped to the next before climbing down the fire escape. Once his feet touched the ground he lost no time worrying about those shards of glass that were beginning to settle into his soles, he just had to get to Foggy – whose groans sounded more and more breathless and desperate.

He leaped over a car before stopping, listening. Foggy was close, sounding worse than before. Matt could picture him in his mind, in some dark alley, defenseless, alone against five (or more!) thugs. As he came closer to his best friends location Matt began to wonder why the dark alleyway seemed to be a… bar? Not Josie’s, but a bar nonetheless. Suddenly there were no more screams from Foggy but… laughter? Foggy was laughing? Desperate laughter, granted, but Matt slowly got the feeling that he had kind of… overreacted… as he remembered that Foggy made exactly those sounds... when being tickled.

Oh. Foggy did say something about meeting some guys from High School. Ooh... . !

Matt tried to slink away without attracting attention but it was too late – the bar’s door opened and Foggy, still laughing and giggling, trying to pat away some hands, stepped on the sidewalk. It took him exactly half a second to see Matt (who tried his best to become invisible).

“Matt? What’re you doin’ here, buddy?” His words were slightly slurred… but unfortunately not enough for Matt to parkour away and convince Foggy that he just had had a weird dream the next day.

“I was looking for something… ” Matt became acutely aware of the shards of glass in his feet. He shifted a little, hoping the darkness was… dark… enough for Foggy to _not_ see that he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

No such luck.

“Jeez, Matty, looking for what? At two in the morning, no less? Without your cane? Half naked??” Oh, yes, right... t-shirt and boxers… but at least Foggy hadn’t seen --- “AND NO SHOES???” Damn.

Think, Matt, think fast!

“Well, there was no time to put on shoes! I was at home, just got ready to go to sleep - but then I heard y… ...odeling.“ Great, Murdock. Again.

“You heard yodeling?!”

“Yes.”

Foggy squinted at him and Matt had a hard time not to fidget under his glance… he couldn’t see it but its heat was unmistakable.

“Yodeling.”

“Yes.”

“You left your bed to check out some… yodeling.”

“Yes.”

“Matty?”

“Yes?”

“…are you drunk? Should I get you home?”

Matt stopped short at the concern in his best friend’s voice before taking the out for what is was and plastered the biggest fake grin he could without getting cramps on his face.

“Yes!”

And if he slung his arm around Foggy’s shoulders instead of taking his arm… well, no one needed to know.

 


	3. Beware the bleeding nose

3.

 

It happened in an alleyway because every bad thing ever happens in alleyways, usually in the really dark ones. They were on their way back to the office, Matt’s arm linked with Foggy’s, his cane in the other hand, when suddenly they were surrounded by thugs. Many thugs. Matt silently cursed himself for not paying attention (but Foggy had just told a joke and they had been laughing and everything had been nice).

Internally sighing, Matt readied himself for being badass and dealing with the whole Foggy-will-know thing after, when one of the goons pulled out a gun and pointed it at Foggy’s head.

“We know who you are and if you so much as lift a finger your pal here won’t see the sun rise again.”

Foggy squeaked, his heartbeat rising, and was obviously about to tell them exactly where they could shove their threats, when Matt turned to him and shook his head at him. The goons weren’t lying, they had guns and weren’t above using them – and they were too many for Matt to fight off when he also had to protect Foggy. He nodded his head at the thugs, felt someone come up to him from behind with what seemed to be a crowbar – and everything went black.

 

The first thing he noticed when he came to was the pain in his shoulders that came with being bound to a chair with handcuffs for what seemed to be close to, oh, three hours. The second thing he noticed was the pain everywhere else –but oh, well… wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. The first thing he _heard_ was – Foggy. Of course it was Foggy, snapping at their kidnappers in the room next to the one Matt was in. “He can’t see, for Christ’s sake! Why the hell would you blindfold him but not me?!” And oh, yes… there was something covering his eyes. One of their kidnappers scoffed. “Yeah… sure, blind. He’s the damned Devil of Hell’s Kitchen; of course he’s NOT blind. Couldn’t ever do that stuff without his eyes!”

Matt froze. It was good that they all seemed to think him still unconscious and had nobody left to watch him because he was very telling in his freezing. Over his own panic he just could make out the end of Foggy’s next sentence (in which he politely told their kidnappers that they’re crazy, should see a doc and go to hell, in that order) before he could hear the telltale sound of tape being ripped off and plastered over a mouth. Obviously the goons had had enough of him being his mouthy self (Matt was glad they just taped his mouth instead of shooting him) and as he heard the door to his room being opened he knew that now the fun part would be starting.

“Hello ‘Devil’, not so clever now, are you?” the first goon mocked and Matt wanted to punch him. The fist to his face was expected and so was the one to his stomach – didn’t mean it hurt any less. Matt shortly thought about engaging the goons in a conversation about why the hell they kidnapped them (they simply were not the type of thug to figure out his identity, there had to be a Big Guy behind all this) but after a kick to his shin he figured it would be waste of time.

After some more minutes of getting kicked and punched, thug 1 turned to thugs 2-5. “You know, there ain’t no fun in kicking the Devil when he’s bound to a chair.” Matt’s breath hitched… they couldn’t possibly be dumb enough to actually free his hands. Blinking behind the blindfold, Matt began to shake and whimper quietly, sniffing a little to portrait his total helplessness and convince the idiots that it’d be safe for them to unbind him.

The goons laughed and mock kicked him a little but goon 1 actually pulled out a keychain. “Ah, what could possibly go wrong. We’re gonna have some fun kicking this coward around and after this deliver him to the boss.” Matt nearly couldn’t believe it as his hands were freed. There was just one thing left… Foggy. He could beat up these idiots but as long as there was one of them with Foggy he was screwed. Damn, how could he make sure no one was watching Foggy anymore--- “And remember, we’ve still got your friend watched all the time!”

 

Heh.

 

Lie.

Matt grinned with blood dripping from his split lip, and thug 2-5 actually took a step back. Thug 1 wasn’t so wise and before anyone knew what happened thug 1 lay on the floor, a broken mess (but somehow still breathing). There was silence for a few seconds before all hell broke loose and in the end Matt stood, breathing heavily, surrounded by bodies in more or less broken states. He tilted his head, listening for anything that could turn out to be dangerous, before remembering Foggy. He took a deep breath and began to stumble to Foggy’s room.

“Foggy?” Matt made sure his voice sounded reasonably confused.

“MMMHHHHMMMMMM!!!!!” Oh, right, duct tape. Of course Matt knew exactly where Foggy was but had to tap around a bit with his hands to destroy every doubt Foggy might have had about him.

“MMMM?” Ah, closer. Following the sound of Foggy’s, well, voice, Matt crept closer before finally coming up behind him, touching his head and ripping the tape off.

“MMMOUTCH! Oh god, Matt!” Foggy struggled against his bonds. “We have to get out of here, those guys are even crazier than I thought – wait, how come you’re free?” _Click_. “And why do you have the keys?” Foggy could finally turn around and get a good look at Matt. “OH my god, fuck, what did they DO to you…”

“You should see the other guy” Matt’s tone said he joked but… well… yeah, Foggy should really see the other guys.

“Don’t make jokes, Murdock, we gotta run before they come back!” Foggy dragged Matt to the only door in the room. Apparently they had to go through the other room in order to get out. Matt sighed.

“About that…” But Foggy had already dragged him through the door – before stopping short.

“Uhm, Matt?”

“Yes, Foggy?”

“What happened here?”

“What do you mean?”

“There are five goons lying on the floor, busy being a bloody mess.”

“Yes, well, they slipped.”

“What?”

“I think they slipped on the blood from my nose after they hit me?”

“…”

“I don’t know, I’m blind, I didn’t see what happened!”

“…there’s also blood on your knuckles”

“Yes, well, I ran into a wall.”

“With your fists?”

“Why, Foggy, you’d prefer I’d go nose first into walls? Of course I have my hands up when walking without my cane, come on!”

“…”

“Foggyyyy, my head hurts and my nose hurts and my shoulders hurt and everything hurts, I want to shower and sleep, let’s go home!”

Foggy sighed. The thugs weren’t his problem at the moment, he guessed. Matt, however, was. Foggy thought about what the goons told him about Matt being the Devil… but one look at his best friend’s trusting face told him that at the moment he couldn’t care less if he was simply Matt Murdock, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen or a dancing hippopotamus

He took him home.

 

 


	4. Attached at hip and shoulder

4.

 

The night was a hard one. Just as Matt had gotten close to the man who had ordered Foggy’s and his kidnapping the police broke the scene and everything went straight to hell when the guy escaped, leaving Matt to deal with armed police forces. Again. He quickly darted out of the old warehouse (why, oh why was it always an old, abandoned warehouse?) and behind some conveniently placed dumpster (yeah, same question). Unfortunately he was out in the open now – or as open as a dark alleyway (seriously?) filled with dumpsters could possibly be. To add insult to injury it was a dead end with no fire escapes or any possibility to climb the walls.

Matt sighed and readied himself to fight his way out, against what seemed to be Hell’s Kitchen Police Department in its entirety. Well, he had nothing to lose now, had he? Not bothering raising his arms (the police surely would think it was a trick – and they’d be right) he jumped onto the street from behind the dumpster, using a wall to gain high and touched down in the middle of the police, surrounded by guns all pointing at him.

Matt grinned slightly, head tilted upwards. They wouldn’t shoot him now, they simply couldn’t without risking to hit one of their own (well, at least Matt really hoped they wouldn’t be _that_ cold blooded). For a moment there was silence, no one lifted a finger – then Matt quickly spun around, sending some officers to the ground, before he made a break for it and simply backflipped over some officer’s heads and out of the alley.

Unfortunately one officer stood a bit in the back, deciding that this would be a superb opportunity to shoot him and Matt winced slightly as the first bullet grazed his shoulder and a second just above his hip. It didn’t do anything to slow him down but that didn’t make it hurt any less and Matt was very happy to finally climb on some roofs and parkour away, out of the open and first and foremost out of the police’s reach.

A few minutes later he reached his apartment, crept through the window, bandaged his wounds, crashed on his bed and slept like the dead.

 

______________________________

 

The next day was a normal day in the office. Matt tried not to yawn too much, even though the night had been extremely short, what with hopping from rooftop to rooftop, fighting criminals, trying not to get caught by the police and generally being a badass.

He tiredly rubbed his shoulder where the bullet had hit him. He really hated guns but supposed he could count himself lucky both bullets had just grazed him, not leaving much damage, all in all just mildly unpleasant. He had bandaged his wounds again in the morning – it wouldn’t do having bloodstains on his shirts – and now it was just a bit annoying.

Yawning again, Matt gave up on reading and went to get some coffee and company. Mug in hand, he entered Foggy’s office – and nearly walked into some boxes.

“Hey Matty, stop, wait a moment”

There was a noise as if someone was moving something around. Matt waited for Foggy to speak again.

“Okay, now, come on in.”

Matt dropped on a chair, sipping his coffee. “What was that?”

“Oh, just some empty boxes for future use. I wanted to put them on the top board of that one shelf but I’m too short and we don’t have a ladder.” Foggy grumbled a bit.

“Well, that’s no problem, let me help – you can direct me where to put the boxes.” Matt got up and Foggy handed him one of the boxes, directing him where to put it. He nearly got it on the shelf when the small wound in his shoulder decided to open up and Matt winced a little. Meanwhile, with his arms above his head, he didn’t notice his shirt sliding up, showing off his belly, his hip – and his bandage. He _did_ notice Foggy’s breath hitching a bit but thought it was due to him lifting the second box and handing it over.

After finishing their task both lawyers joined Karen watching the News. Matt, still sipping his coffee, went very still as the TV spoke about the “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” and “new footage” and “last night” and “got a good look at the guy due to a surveillance camera” and “brave officer shot the Devil in shoulder and hip”. Unbeknownst by Matt, who was busy scratching his shoulder and being deep in thought, Foggy glanced at him – especially at hip and shoulder in question.

Karen’s squeak of delight brought both back to the here and now. “Look at him; doesn’t he look like some kind of Greek God in a tight black suit?” Matt blinked slowly behind his glasses, trying not to preen.

“He kinda does, yeah… ” Matt nearly choked on air because Foggy’s heartbeat hadn’t changed.

“Ooooh, I wonder how he looks out of costume… I mean, just look at his butt!” Karen swooned and Matt had a hard time not blushing too hard.

“Huh, yeah. It’s a shame the mask covers up so much of his face. Speaking of which, I wonder how he can see through that thing.” Matt froze again, not noticing Foggy watching him out of the corner of his eyes.

Karen tilted her head. “Huh, you’re right. Maybe it’s, uh, a high-tech mask and one-sided-see-through?” Then she laughed “or maybe he’s blind and has some kind of weird bat-sonar-sense.”

Everything stood still for a second before Matt really choked on air and Karen had to get up and frantically pat his back.

Foggy didn’t say anything for a while and Matt, after having regained the ability to breathe, became increasingly worried.

Then: “Nah. I’m sure it’s a high-tech mask. Matt, more coffee?”

Matt nodded. Phew.

 


	5. Iron Devil

5.

 

Matt knew Foggy suspected him of being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and tried to get him to… admit it? Or maybe to corner him in a way where he had no choice but to parkour away, having to give up his secret without wanting to?

So yes, he knew Foggy tried to prove him to be the Devil but this was getting ridiculous (and, on occasion, rather painful).

At first, he didn’t think anything of it when he nearly fell flat on his face in his own office because _someone_ thought it to be a good idea to rearrange the furniture in a blind man’s room (who doesn’t _always_ concentrate _that_ much when navigating in a space he knows). He managed to stumble around the chair standing behind the door only to nearly crash into another one, sending both chairs flying.

“Foggy!”

Not even one second after yelling his best friend’s name, said man poked his head in (later, Matt realized he must have waited outside the door), seemed to give the room a good glance, mumbled a quiet “huh, you okay?” and retreated again.

So, Matt would have thought that it had been an accident and never spoken of it… but it happened again. Not in his office but in Foggy’s apartment. And in his _own_ apartment (Foggy told him he couldn’t remember placing the table into the hallway). And _somehow_ even their freaking coffee shop suddenly decided to rearrange their tables (but at this point Matt knew that something was not right and had his senses on high alert). He asked the barista and got told that this “nice short man” told them that it’d be much better to sit this way and the boss had thought it to be a pretty good idea.

Matt also slowly got a pretty good idea – but of what was going on. He didn’t know if he should be worried, amused or annoyed but he _did_ know what he needed to do: play along. If Foggy tried to get him to accidently reveal himself… well, he just had to make sure that he simply didn’t and that would be the end of it. Quite simple, really.

Or so he thought.

There was nothing simple about knowing there was an orange incoming and letting it hit you in the face because otherwise Foggy would know.

There was nothing simple about falling over chairs after encountering another rearranged area in the office.

There was nothing simple about actively walking into a lamppost because he had his arm in Foggy’s and Foggy forgot to warn him about the pole when walking down the street.

…and it _really_ wasn’t simple to keep pretending he couldn’t find his lips when kissing him and instead pecking him on the chin. (Matt still couldn’t believe all it had taken was a “hey, Foggy, uh, I kinda like you and…” – “Oh god, yes, come here!”)

So, yes, it really wasn’t that simple and after having to walk into what felt like the tenth doorknob, stepping into a puddle for the third time and repeatedly having fruit flying towards him with no means to stop it hitting him in the face Matt just _had_ it! There had to be a solution except telling Foggy the truth. Of course Matt knew he could just do it... but… he didn’t want to. Not now.

 

Two days later, after spending a nice evening on the roof of his apartment building, just chatting, cuddling and enjoying the night, they were getting ready to move it all downstairs when a shadow moved along and fell upon them.

Foggy raised his head to get a better look and did a double take. There was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, in full costume, casually picking up some of their leftovers, stuffing them in his mouth and backfliping away. Foggy ignored Matt, who demanded to know what was going on, busy watching the Devil doing flips, backflips, rolls and generally being his acrobatic self before parkouring away.

Foggy slowly turned his head, blinking at Matt. “But… but I thought…”

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Foggy tried to clear his head.

“The… the guy in the mask just… stole our food”

Matt tilted his head a bit, amused. “Foggy, you don’t have to say that. I don’t care if there’s nothing left.”

“What? No, no really! This guy with the mask, this Devil of Hell’s Kitchen or whatever, he just dropped in, stole our food and danced away doing backflips!”

Now Matt started to laugh. “Yeeeah, sure – the guy has nothing better to do than to come along and eat our leftovers. Oh, wait, I know: maybe he didn’t have time to eat after his day job and was reeeally hungry.

“But… but…!”

“Aww okay, if you say so. Now come on, let’s get downstairs and go to bed”

Foggy blinked at him with what were probably the widest eyes ever.

“I… yes, okay. I mean, I thought… but… uh… never mind. Okay.” Still shaking his head and rearranging his thoughts he followed Matt inside.

 

(The next evening Danny Rand gave Matt his mask back, grinned and jumped back out of the window.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny Rand aka Iron Fist poses as Daredevil in #87 :)


	6. Cookies and Sandwiches

+1

 

“Foggy, listen. I’m… I’m the guy in the mask. The Devil. Of Hell’s Kitchen.”

There was a moment of silence before Foggy burst out laughing, clapping Matt on the back “Suuure you are buddy. Good joke!”

“No, you don’t understand, I really am! And I absolutely need you to believe and trust me now because we are in danger!”

“What are you talking about?” Foggy frowned.

Matt bit his lip but nodded slightly. “Watch.” He stepped back and looked in Foggy’s direction before spinning around himself and doing three backflips in a row. After, he went back to Foggy.

“So, now, we have to ---“

“No.”

“What?”

“I said No. Matt, no, what was that?”

“I… like I told you…”

“No, Matt!” Foggy’s heartbeat skyrocketed and he stumbled back, away from Matt. “You can’t be this… this… _lunatic_! How? Why?”

There were tears of anger and betrayal in Foggy’s eyes. “You _lied_ to me, all this time!”

“Foggy, please, I’ll explain everything… but we have to go now, those men have guns and---”

The fist to his face was a surprise. “You leave me alone, I don’t want to see you again – _ever_!” Foggy rarely shouted but now he was loud – and running away.

After a moment of shock, Matt scrambled to his feet, suddenly very afraid. “No, Foggy, wait, there are---“

There was a gunshot and then silence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Foggy!”

Matt woke up, bathed in sweat, breathing heavily, while a very concerned sounding Foggy called his name, shaking him.

“Matt, it’s okay, just a nightmare…” His partner tried to calm him, stroking his hair. Matt slowly, very slowly, relaxed in Foggy’s arms. It wasn’t the first time he woke up from having a nightmare and all of them were of Foggy dying because of something to do with his night job.

Foggy still stroked his hair, cuddling him. “Want to tell me what it was this time?” Matt shook his head, not trusting his voice. He pressed a kiss to Foggy’s lips before freeing himself, murmuring “gonna shower” and walking to the bathroom.

While showering, Matt thought about his dreams. He wasn’t sure what his subconscious wanted to tell him: “Go tell Foggy before there’s a situation so he won’t freak out” or “For heaven’s sake, do not, I repeat, _do not_ tell him, like, ever! He’ll leave you and you’ll be all alone!” or “Eh, do whatever. He’ll leave you no matter what, just a matter of time before he sees the real you and runs away.”

In every dream he had had, Foggy had freaked out and left him; sometimes he had died, sometimes he had called the police, sometimes he was just gone. So now, in the shower (because the best decisions are always made in showers), Matt chose option two. Do not tell Foggy. _Ever_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt visited Foggy’s building every night, sometimes in, sometimes out of costume – but every night before he went to listen over the city, Matt went to Foggy’s roof and listened over his partner. Sometimes Foggy saw him and one time he even waved. The next day he told attorney- at-law-Matt about his nightly encounter with the Devil, seemingly not concerned with it, and told him that maybe the Devil was looking for some food again. Matt just nodded, amused.

That night there were cookies and a sandwich waiting for Devil-Matt.

So after a while (and more food) they had an easy-going kind of thing, so nobody could blame Matt that when he heard Foggy say “ok, be careful tonight and don’t be too late in the office tomorrow!” he answered with “aww, thanks, I won’t be” before freezing.

Foggy froze in a similar way, mouth hanging open, looking up from where he was on the phone (Matt could hear Karen say “ok, thanks, bye” before hanging up) in order to stare at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Or, better, at Matt.

There was this moment of silence Matt knew all too well from his dreams. He opened his mouth to say something, anything – but nothing came out. He was screwed, there was no way he could save himself this time.

Every apology he ever thought of passed his lips without any sound.

He could hear Foggy’s heartbeat speeding up, now surely was the moment he told him---

“HA! I KNEW IT!”

\---that he never wanted to see him… wait, what?

“What?”

Matt couldn’t help but squeak when Foggy’s arms went around him and he was enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

“I… what?” Matt didn’t have to play confused.

“You big idiot, you have to tell me everything! How? And why? Ooh my god, I fucking knew it!”

“You did? What?”

“Well, you had me confused for a while what with that other guy running around – but, Matt… after I saw that guy that one time you never ran into doorknobs again or toppled over chairs – and you caught that one banana I threw at your face without even realizing you did it. That – and the scars. You really thought I wouldn’t notice the scars?”

“…you’re not angry?”

“Of course I am, idiot. You didn’t trust me.”

“But…”

“Yes?”

“…but… you won’t leave me?” Matt hadn’t intended for it to sound so small.

Foggy’s breath hitched before Matt felt a hand softly caressing his cheek. “No, I won’t leave you. I love you. So yes, I’m gonna be angry for a while… and I will worry for you all the time and maybe handcuff you to the bed so you can’t run around at night… but I will never leave you.”

Matt would forever deny the tears sliding down his face. “Love you, too, Foggy”

Foggy kissed him softly before straightening his back.

“So, Mister Murdock – now you have some explaining to do. I want to know everything and I will kick your ass if you so much as _think_ about lying to me again!”

Matt yelped as he was dragged inside by his ears. His dreams had never ended this way – and he couldn’t be any happier.

 

(Later, while cuddling on the couch, Foggy looked up to him. "But, hey... now that I know - wanna move in with me?)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes. That's it - for now.  
> Thinking about writing some kind of sequel (well, there still is this Big Bad I never explained, so...).  
> And yeah, okay, writing is fun, I'm just looking for an excuse ;)


End file.
